Marco Parente
[neve] Ridens

This is truly a snowfall: the words settle on your skin, and even if they seem to melt immediately, they leave you wet and cold... and it's not so easy to dry off.

These are raw, biting, ironic, heartbreaking words, even when whispered, and as with all snowfalls, the thunder is always around the corner and unexpected like in "Amore Cattivo", and rare are the glimpses of light.

This snowfall is made of many things: it is made of cryptic lyrics ("don't know if it's the snow outside or the cotton I have inside"), it is made of jazz ("elevator hell ground floor"), it is made of many acoustic guitars, it is made with the memory of Italian singer-songwriters, of shouts and whispers that mix ("Amore Cattivo"), of silences more than ever full, of inadequacy and love, "amore ridens" in a certain sense.

Yes, "amore ridens", indeed in this snowfall everything seems to have a strange grin on its face, a ruthless, treacherous grin, this is a snowfall that certainly does not soothe the soul.